Leaving the Nest
by Ayee
Summary: It's hard to let go. Sometimes she still wishes she had kept at least one of them home - a parent's thoughts as her children leave on a pokémon journey.


**WARNING: The author of this story doesn't own Pokémon.**

**Leaving the Nest**

**I**

Two girls strode across the street, hand in hand. One of them was looking up at the bright morning sky, admiring the blazing sun as it cast its glorious rays over the familiar rooftops. There was no hint of a cloud, nothing besides the yellow shell of the sun, surrounded by a lighter than usual, singularly gentle shade of blue.

The other girl was gazing down at her feet – her left foot, to be more precise –, oblivious to the excellent weather. She'd tripped soon after they left home, accidentally stepping into a puddle near the sidewalk, a vestige of the previous night's rain. Her companion hadn't noticed it, as the resulting splash had been rather inconsiderable, and the unlucky girl had barely faltered, quickly catching up. She wasn't one to fuss, but rather to brood over incidents such as this.

''WAIT UP! COME BACK, YOU TWO! WAIT UP!'' On the other side of the road, the front door of the girls' house slammed open, and both of them looked back in a simultaneous motion. A large woman stood at the doorstep, yelling and beckoning for the pair to return home.

They did so, albeit reluctantly, as they would much rather go on than go back home, especially on this day of all others. The more cheerful girl quickly reasoned, however, that the sooner they complied, the sooner they'd be free to go. She made her way back swiftly, pulling her slower companion along – the sullener girl treaded carefully as to avoid further soaking her old trainers. They were one of the few shoes she actually liked, worn out or not, plus she really really hated the feeling of wet socks clinging to her ankles like a second skin. Ugh.

The woman – who happened to be the girls' mother – was a middle-aged, overweight housewife whose corpulent frame and stern expression quickly gave away her motherly nature; but not even the wrinkles on her face could erase the beauty of her sparkling blue eyes. She was wearing an old fuzzy robe and sandals, her dark blond hair pinned up messily in a loose bun. Her disheveled appearance was evidently why she had asked the girls to return, instead of approaching them herself.

And even from a distance, their mother's impatience - annoyance – disappointment was plain to see. As they drew nearer, the cheerful girl noted, with relief, that the woman wasn't really angry. Nevertheless, she was still rather intimidating, especially when she looked like she was ready to exert the sacred right of all mothers: yell at their children in a fit of righteousness. (''You should have known better because I taught you better, after all!'').

''Do you know what you two forgot?'' The girls' mother drawled, in a tone that fully revealed her desire to cross her arms reprovingly (which wasn't possible due to her holding the said forgotten item in her right hand), her face stretching into a frown. She wasn't truly upset, but she would give them one last lecture all the same, just to be safe.

''The first aid kit.'' The cheerful girl answered unnecessarily. She was prone to speaking up, just as her sister was prone to staying silent. They had packed excitedly the day before, and had checked their backpacks before they went to bed, precisely to see if they hadn't forgotten anything. It wasn't their fault they had lost the first aid kit during the process – they'd decided to search for it in the morning, which they had then forgot about because they were too busy fantasizing about the journey ahead, as well as devouring the special 'good luck!' breakfast Mother had prepared them.

''Indeed. I suppose I do not need to tell you why a first aid kit is essential. What will you do if you get hurt?'' Of course there was always the possibility – Arceus forbid - of one of them, or both of them getting _too_ hurt. Little girls alone in the wilderness… dying, beyond the reach of their mother's loving arms. It had happened before, though she hadn't experienced it first hand – right now, this mother felt as though she would never look at news of dead young trainers the same way. Which was silly… almost every able-bodied ten-year-old child left home, at least for a while.

It was the way of life. One of her daughters – the sullen girl – took the kit wordlessly, in an innocent gesture that said ''don't worry, we'll use it''.

''Sorry, Mom.'' Said the cheerful girl, looking suitably apologetic. ''We have to catch the bus. Sure, we could just walk to the lab-''

Mother scoffed. ''None of that. There will be plenty of walking later.'' She predicted darkly. The girls were used to long walks, as their house was located in a rather secluded area of Pallet Town. (The price to be paid for a beach house: waking up to the ocean was indeed wonderful, but rather impractical as you had to live so far away from the town's centre). Also, Mother had often warned her daughters, with stories from her own brief and unremarkable journey, about all the walking and traveling, trying to shield them from the dismay she herself had felt upon learning of a trainer's routine. So, technically, they were informed.

Only they knew nothing. They had never been hurt and all they had experienced was the sheltered life most kids from a good family get. The life they take for granted. Mother looked at the identical faces of her precious daughters.

''My girls.'' She was proud of them. Lovingly, she clutched the head of her sullen daughter in between her hands, pressing a kiss to the girl's forehead. Then she turned and did the same to the other, who had already leaned over in anticipation. ''Tweedledee. Tweedledum.'' She said their respective nicknames as she kissed them, so very proud of her children.

Now, letting go. With a sigh.

''Go.'' She told them sternly, making shooing motions with her hands.

''G'bye, Mom.'' Said Tweedledum – the cheerful one. Tweedledee echoed her sister's goodbye with a discreet wave, mumbling something indistinct.

Lost in her thoughts, - should she try to find some sort of hobby to occupy herself? - Mother didn't answer them immediately, but called out a belated ''take care!'' as they walked down the street, if only because she wished she could take care of them. She wondered if every mother felt this empty the day their children left home to run after a dream.

Perhaps her pain was greater because her daughters were twins and her husband traveled so often he wasn't home most of the time – he had to work, to provide for his family – and now, she was suddenly left all alone. Or perhaps she was just selfishly overestimating her emptiness and underestimating everyone else's.

Mother didn't close the door until her daughters were well out of her sight.

A/N: I hope you liked this little one-shot. I've always wondered how parents felt when their children left to be trainers, so I really enjoyed writing this. I hesitated to post it, as I don't know if I am good enough of a writter to publish anything, mainly because I'm not a native speaker of English. But this is just fanfiction, so what the heck.

Anyway, please be so kind as to review and let me now what you think of it! :)


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